


Saving Red

by Ruee07



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruee07/pseuds/Ruee07
Summary: Set directly after the shocking defeat in the Winter Cup finals, captain Akashi Seijuro finds himself feeling more helpless than ever before. He does something that sends him spiralling out of control, alarming his former teammates from Teiko Junior High, known as the Generation of Miracles. But will it take a real miracle to save him?





	1. Part 1: Chapter 1

Part 1: Chapter 1

Akashi had lost.

Akashi was free.

To the outside world, it was a victory for all. Akashi had been restored to his old self, Seirin had won, all was well.

But it wasn’t.

"Seijuro, I am aware of your loss in the basketball match," said Akashi's father, CEO of Akashi Corporations, one of the most influential men in the world.

The cutlery was the only thing that dared make noise. Akashi set his fork down, looking at his plate of mutilated, yet untouched, dinner. He was quiet for as long as he dared, collecting his thoughts. Hiding his dread, Akashi replied carefully, "Yes father. My humblest apologies, I lost to Seirin in the finals match today. They did a commendable job-"

"Seijuro." His father cut off. "You have tarnished the family name. We are Akashi, we know no loss. What you did today only makes me feel more disgusted when I look at you." 

"You are weak, just like your mother. I should have known that even the best upbringing cannot hide the rot in your flesh."

Akashi tensed slightly, disguising how the words shattered him - like he was glass. His father thought he was rot? Akashi had tried his best and vowed to seek revenge for his loss - was that not worth something? 

"You are sickening; disgusting. I knew I shouldn't have let you play basketball. Perhaps then the world wouldn’t have realised what a failure you are, Seijuro. You’re hardly suited for the Akashi name.”

The cold words continued like a mental attack assuaging him.

"Dismissed." His father snarled.

Akashi leapt out of his seat, and tried to reach his room without breaking into a run. He shut the door quietly, carefully, and slid to the floor, energy sapped from him. 

Stumbling his way to his bed, vision blurring with tears, he clumsily gripped at his blanket, biting into it, before sobbing. This feeling he’d never felt before - a ball in his chest, expanding, pushing everything else aside as it overcame him. His body fell prey to raking silent sobs. 

He cried, and cried, and cried until he had no tears left to cry. It must have been hours - it was pitch black out of his window; not a sound could be heard. Dehydrated and exhausted, he stumbled to the door of his private bathroom to get a glass of water. His knees gave way under him, and he fell to the floor. Too shaken to continue, he curled up into the foetal position, back facing the door, as exhaustion pulled him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys this is a short first chapter I know!!! Ill definitely make it longer as it goes on!


	2. Part 1: Chapter 2

Akashi woke with a start.

His back was aching from the hard, cold marble floor. He clambered up to stand, using the door as support. He walked further into the bathroom, regarding the mirror as he assessed the damage.

His hair was a matted mop, edges sticking out like needles in a pincushion. His lips were bleeding from the unyielding biting Akashi hadn’t even realized he’d done. But the worst were his eyes - they were swollen, red, and covered in bruises.

Stripping and stepping into the shower, he hit the knob, jerking as jets of hot water seemed to burn his skin; his soul. The instant the first drop of hot water touched him, he broke, cool tears streaming down his cheeks once again. His eyes stung; the salty tears caused his sensitive skin to hurt.

Why did he lose? How? The loss was shock enough, but his father's anger?   
His thoughts rose like the hot, scorching steam from the shower, recalling his father's words -

“Weak.”

“...rot…”

He tensed, remembering what his father had said. 

“No more basketball.”

Basketball was his one single joy. He loved it - the satisfaction in a well-planned attack, an iron defence, winning.  
But he hadn’t won.   
He’d lost.   
He was a failure. And now the thing he enjoyed most had been ripped from his grasp.

But there were no more feelings; the unexplainable balloon of emotions he felt last night had vanished, he felt nothing - empty.

He stepped out of the shower and looked at his reflection again. Angry red blotches peppered his skin from the heat of the water. In several areas, his skin was so raw that even the slightest provocation like wrapping a towel around him, left his skin stinging. 

He liked the stinging, the constant pain. It made the world before him vanish for the few painful seconds. Then the pain subsided, and Akashi was once again left, empty.

His hand moved on its own, tracing the red splotches on his neck and dug in. He clenched his teeth, the pain was so blinding - so sharp - it felt amazing; almost sinful. His eyes closed he pressed deeper, escaping the world around him and concentrating on the pain. 

His other hand moved without instruction, pressing, digging, rubbing his skin till it ripped. The satisfaction of the cut made him gasp and he searched for more skin to fall prey to his actions.

He was done, eyes open staring at the sight before him. Red dots and lines speckled his body. There was blood, prominently around his shoulders and neck that was making its way down his torso. He watched, entranced, as his blood rolled down his skin. But then he jerked his gaze away. It was as if he couldn't bear to see the near pathetic sight anymore as a streak of shame flashed through him. But all other feelings were overcome by the pain - the sweet, pleasurable pain.

He was in control again, and as long as he could control this pain, he would survive. It didn't matter if he was worthless, as long as he had control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Another short chapter (edited), I think I'll be able to update it at least 2 times a week. Maybe more. Please comment, share and like!


	3. Part 1: Chapter 3

On Monday, he returned to school, looking like the same Akashi. Calm, collected, deadly.

But he was hiding a secret.There was no victory he had to achieve. Not any longer. His hands grasped a red file with “Withdrawal Letter” his father had left on his table that morning. No words were spoken, but Akashi knew what he had to do. He slipped into the staffroom early in the morning and searched for the distinct empty table, placing the single piece of paper on the basketball teacher-in-charge’s desk. He strode out of the staffroom, face set in stone, not trusting himself to look back. 

The morning passed uneventfully but Akashi wasn’t paying attention. It didn't matter - he had prepared everything in advance and no teacher would dare call him out anyway. The last lesson was Japanese Literature, and as his thoughts drifted, his Teiko days, when he’d played with all of them before they had changed. His thoughts drifted further back, to his mother introducing basketball to him. He would never admit it, but basketball was the one way he could feel a connection to his mother after her untimely passing when he was in elementary school. 

The fateful day his mother had died, his father had locked himself in his study, while Akashi had taken his basketball, blindly sprinting to the court to shoot. He missed every single shot he made.

And with the ball rolling on the floor, he promised to himself - and his mother - that this was the only failure he would ever experience in life; that beyond this point he would always be the strongest and win.

That was the first time he remembered ever crying. And he hadn’t done so again till last week.

His teacher started chiding someone for not paying attention. Akashi glanced briefly at the clock - 5 minutes left.

It was Monday, and there was training on Monday, but he knew he couldn't go. He was tempted, hell, he would have gone, if not for the underlying threat in his father's actions. So when school ended, he packed his bag briskly and walked out of school to his chauffeur waiting outside the gate.

“Akashi-san,” bowed the chauffeur, “Akashi-sama has instructed me to pick you up after school. The following instructions included that you would be going home at this time everyday from now on.” 

There was a message in that. An undeniably clear message.

When he reached home, he closed the door to his room, escaping the butler and chef.

He felt his thoughts swimming, heart was pumping wildly, and he knew that at this exact moment the teacher-in-charge would be telling his teammates - ex-teammates - that he had withdrawn from basketball due to “personal reasons”.

He could picture the shock and disbelief of his teammates - Hayama’s mischievous grin wiped clean off his face, Nebuya’s gruff sigh and a scowl, Mibuchi’s frown and Mayuzumi’s sharp inhalation. He saw it all.

A treacherous tear rolled down his face; he came to terms with the fact that no longer would basketball be with him. He had played his last match, and it had been the worst game he could have played. 

He resented Kuroko. He had been the one who’d discovered Kuroko’s talent, and ultimately Kuroko had been the one who’d taught him the importance of team play - a unified team play.

He repeatedly slammed his table, frustrated, angry, despairing. Not enough, not enough, his thoughts chanted. He slid open his drawer, extracting a pair of red scissors. He grasped hold of it with firm determination, using both hands to slide open the scissors. Sitting down on his bed, Akashi glanced up, making sure the door was closed before he took off his pants, revealing unmarred thighs. Not for much longer, he thought. 

As if in a trance, he pressed the blades down, down on his thigh. The previous images of basketball, Teiko days, his Rakuzan team dissipated into thin air, and all that was left, was pain.

His toes clenched from the pain, and in an instant his mind was filled with emptiness. No agony, no sorrow, no despair.

He dragged the glinting blades across his skin, and lifted them up. A mesmerising line of blood appeared, covering the pale ripped skin below. Again, again, again. 

Akashi let out a heavy sigh of satisfaction, releasing his hold on his scissors onto the bed. His gaze locked on his thigh. His left thigh was lined with several deep cuts; red, red blood rolling off his thigh, onto the bed, onto the floor. He bent down to clean up the mess he’d made before sitting down on his chair to begin work, as if nothing had ever transpired. 

This went on for weeks, the pain, his only anchor to the world. He skipped meals, sealed his heart, stopped living. His day revolved around his little ‘reprieves’, his little ‘escapes’.

It was once a day, then twice, then once in the morning, once in school, once he was home and before he slept. He had no space on his upper thighs, and so he started to work his way onto his ribs and ankles.

Pain was all that anchored him here.

\------

“Kurokocchi!!” Kise squealed excitedly, engulfing Kuroko in an enthusiastic hug on the basketball court at Seirin.

“Kise-kun, what are you doing here?” huffed Kuroko slightly. Swarms of girls had heard of Kise’s arrival and were swarming the court. “I’m in the middle of practice.”

There was a slight pause, then Midorima walked in. 

Kagami froze for a split second. Then, “What the hell are you two doing here?” he roared. “A 2-on-1 rematch! I’m ready!” 

“Bakagami,” snapped Midorima irritably, taped fingers pushing up his glasses. From his other taped hand dangled his lucky item of the day - a small keychain. “We have no intention of disrupting your training. We will wait for you to finish, Kuroko. There are certain issues that we need to discuss.”

Without another word, Midorima forcibly dragged Kise to the side of the court and sat down. Seirin was not oblivious to Midorima’s and Kise’s presence but chose to ignore it, carrying out training as per normal.

“Practice over, remember to stretch and eat your protein pills!” announced Aida Riko, Seirin’s coach. Kuroko and Kagami made their way to the two boys at the edge of the court. “Please leave, Kagami. We want to talk to only Kuroko,” Midorima insisted, cold gaze harboured nothing but distaste.

Kagami opened his mouth to retort, but noticed Kuroko’s glance that brooked no argument. He resorted to eyeing them suspiciously, as he made his way out of the court. 

“Midorima-kun, Kise-kun. What is it you need to talk to me about?” enquired Kuroko curiously. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to see them, but it was rare for them to ever pay him a visit.

“It’s Akashicchi! He quit the Rakuzan basketball team after the Winter Cup and we’re… we’re worried about him…” Kise trailed off, voice shaking slightly. He bit his lip, eyes hooded, downcast expression a far cry from his previous enthusiastic greeting.

“Akashi-kun…quit?” Kuroko couldn't believe it - Akashi embodied basketball.

“I went to visit him last weekend. I waited at the court he always practised at and he was there, simply staring at the hoop, no basketball in hand. He didn't even notice me, and when I greeted him, he looked startled, almost shocked. I could see his expression, and there is something that is extremely wrong with him.” Midorima’s typical cool, emotionless expression had been replaced with a troubled look.

Kuroko’s fists clenched by his sides.

“Akashi-kun…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Akashi is suffering a lot:( Just hold on for a while more guys, things will get better! (I hope)  
> Also MAJOR credits to my amazing friend and editor codename Spain:)


	4. Part 1: Chapter 4

Akashi grasped a piece of cloth, striding to the bathroom with full intention to wet it. He’d just arrived home, and had carried out his ‘ritual’ - he needed to clean up his mess.

However, his plan was disrupted when his phone started vibrating noisily on his desk. Akashi’s gaze darted to the impatiently-buzzing device, ignoring the trickling of blood from his ankles to the marble floor. Midorima’s contact was on the lit-up screen, and Akashi immediately slid across the screen to answer the call.

“Midorima, nice to hear from you,” he greeted, voice calm.

His hand trembled against his will.

“Akashi, are you free this weekend? The national Shogi Championships are being held in Tokyo this year.”

Akashi hesitated. 

He wanted to go. But he was so embarrassed at himself; at what he had become - a failure. He remembered Midorima seeing him just last week. He had visited the nearby basketball court just to look at it once more, but he’d started crying.

He was doing that a lot these days.  
Crying.

He was mourning the loss of basketball, the sounds of a ball through the hoop, the unified cries of the bench yelling “Defense! Defense!”. He missed it- no, he yearned it.

When Midorima had arrived, Akashi had already cried himself dry. He’d taken the necessary precautions of freshening up, ensuring there was no obvious damage on his face, as he politely offered to go for lunch with Midorima. And yet, there had seemed to be a strained tension throughout their meal. Midorima looked as if he was searching for something in Akashi’s eyes but he hadn’t said a word, promptly leaving afterwards.

He doesn't want to be with a failure like me.

“Akashi?” Midorima asked tentatively, startling Akashi out of his reverie. 

“My apologies for the delay, Midorima. Yes, I will be able to view the Championships with you. I’ll see you soon.” He managed, before hanging up.

Tears formed at the edge of his eyes. Weak. How could he succumb to it so quickly? He was nothing; undeserving of joy.

Why couldn't he just say no?  
Because he was weak.

You’re weak. 

His head seemed to be spinning as he reached out for his scissors - at this point they were ironically- his life-saver, now with maroon-stained blades. He looked at his blood-caked ankles, but there was no space. Akashi frantically lifted his shirt but there were no more protruding ribs he could cut. Weak - and fat, he thought grimly.

His heart began thumping wildly - he needed a release, and he needed it now. With his right hand on the scissors, he brought it down on his left wrist. Push and drag and release.  
Push and drag and release.  
And again.  
And again.  
Again.  
AGAIN. 

He breathed out.

His heart was slowly returning to its normal rhythm. The vibrant red lines were elongating and spreading, merging into a small puddle, beads of blood dribbling on the floor, drop by drop by drop by drop.

Reaching out for the constant supply of alcohol swabs next to his bed, Akashi wiped the dried blood off his caked ankles, wincing at the stinging pain but smiling with a crazed pleasure as he did so.

He ruthlessly ripped open a new packet to wipe his wrist.

The deed was done; he was okay now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank all of you guys, the readers, for your support.  
> Quixter, pink__lemonade, alexdawg99, AyakiStory, SilverWings920, VanillaDaydreams, ThereIsNothing, Rianick, SeventeenMagazine, and DigimonDestined thank you for your kudos:)


	5. Part 1: Chapter 5

Saturday morning arrived without much incident.

With the Shogi Championships being a 2-day event, Akashi had his butler arrange travel and accommodation for the weekend in Tokyo. He’d chosen a long-sleeved undershirt acceptable to wear in winter. This will serve to hide these, Akashi thought almost disdainfully, gazing at his scabbed, bleeding wrists covered with bandages.

He boarded the bullet train before the the sun rose, looking out at the passing scenery from his first-class seat. Leaning against the window, he fell asleep.

“Tokyo City Central,” announced the speaker’s static voice. Akashi shot awake and made his way to the Championships.

“Good morning, Akashi. Shall we go and find our seats?”

“Hello, Midorima. Yes, we should.”

As they watched the ongoing match in the Shogi Championships, Midorima noticed - Akashi wasn’t paying attention, and was fidgeting rather awkwardly. He frowned; in the past, Akashi would criticise moves the players made and instead suggest better ones. And yet now, he could hardly focus.

In truth, Akashi had realised that he had forgotten to bring his scissors with him.

He was starting to panic.

There was an announcement of a break. Just as Midorima turned to ask Akashi where he’d like to eat lunch, Akashi shot up from his seat, declaring that he had to go somewhere and would be back soon. 

Midorima watched Akashi’s silhouette fade from sight and disappear for a minute, conflicted. Then he reached for his phone and typed, fingers flashing over the screen: ‘He walked out of entrance door 5.’ 

He sighed to himself as he sent the message, pushing up his glasses. What’s wrong, Akashi?

An almost instantaneous reply lit up the screen of Midorima’s green phone:, ‘Thank you, Midorima-kun’. 

The shadow was tailing his former captain cautiously - or, perhaps, as cautiously as he could whilst dragging a half awake and complaining Aomine. Under normal circumstances, Akashi would have probably noticed them, but his mind was frantic as he tried to locate the nearest store that could serve his needs.

Kuroko hadn’t liked the idea of stalking his captain - he didn’t like it now either - but they’d desperately wanted to know what was going on with Akashi, and he was hardly going to offer information willingly.

At this point their ideas were all over the place. Akashi having to take over the family business, Akashi being ill, or Akashi having eaten too much candy and was experiencing the longest sugar crash ever. The last suggestion had obviously been Murasakibara-kun’s idea.

~~~

After Midorima and Kise had filled him in with what had happened, they unanimously decided that the whole Generation of Miracles should be informed.

They met at a barbeque place the next day. Yosen High was in the Akita prefecture but Murasakibara’s grandparents who had brought him up lived in Tokyo, so he’d told his parents that he would visit them.

When they were all sat down, Aomine was half-asleep, Kise was waving at fangirls outside the restaurant, Midorima was spinning his lucky item- a red rubber ball - and Murasakibara was munching candy.

“Please excuse my tardiness. Riko-senpai ended training late today,” Kuroko apologised calmly, taking a seat between Midorima and Aomine.

“It’s fine. I’d like to thank you all for coming,” Midorima addressed. “I wouldn't have called all of you, had it not been a matter of urgency. It’s about Akashi, he seems... different now - and more importantly, he quit basketball.” 

Aomine’s and Murasakibara’s eyes widened, astonishment evident. Akashi, like all of them, loved basketball. Why would he stop playing? Akashi would never quit, especially not if he wasn't at the top. He would have beat everyone a hundred times over before declaring himself victorious. What had happened?

“We need to find out-ssu,” Kise seemed to read everyone’s minds.

“That’s right.” Midorima pushed his glasses up stiffly, lips pulling downwards into a concerned scowl.

“We need to help Akashi.”

~~~

“Tetsu, walk faster. I’m half-asleep, but even I can tell Akashi’s getting away,” Aomine muttered groggily. Aomine most certainly did care, but he was simply too lazy to show it at the moment.

They broke into a jog, before coming to a halt, as they watched Akashi enter a hardware store.

Utterly bewildered, the duo tentatively entered the shop. What in the world was Akashi doing in a hardware shop? Was he going to purchase rope and strangle some people to death?

On second thought, that would be simultaneously alarming and relieving, because it would mean that Akashi was feeling perfectly fine.

The shop was cluttered but rather large, so they managed to escape being seen by Akashi till he was at the cashier - with Kuroko doing most of the hiding and pulling Aomine behind shelves to stay out of sight.

“C’mon Tetsu, we need to see what he’s buying.” Before Kuroko could protest, Aomine dragged the pale, smaller boy to the cashier.

“Oh - Akashi! What’re you doing here?” asked Aomine, feigning nonchalance, his couldn’t-care-less attitude coming out full-force.

“Aomine, Kuroko. I’m here to watch the Shogi Championships with Midorima. I would love to stand around and chat, but I really must get back to the venue. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Akashi grabbed the plastic bag with his purchase, leaving before either of them could say even a word. 

Stupid, Akashi thought. Why did I panic? I must’ve made it look like there was something was wrong. He walked briskly back to the venue, trying to even out his breathing. They should know nothing. I’m still in control, he thought, tinged with fear. He strode into the bathroom, hands tightening subconsciously, grasp crushing his plastic bag.

“That was weird.” Aomine seemed to agree with what Midorima said earlier that week about Akashi’s strange behaviour. 

“Excuse me, sir. Would you mind telling me what my friend, the young man with the red hair, bought from your shop?” Kuroko approached the person manning the cashier and asked politely.

Somewhere inside Kuroko and Aomine, they both felt an unexplainable nervousness as they waited for the shop owner to reply.

The Generation of Miracles all received the same message from Aomine:

‘He bought a heavy duty penknife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comment and support:) uriokuki, inkerdliom, 27thSky, Nijidesu + all the guests, thank you for your kudos!!!


	6. Part 1: Chapter 6

The second half of the first day of Shogi Championships had started - and both Akashi and Midorima weren’t paying attention to the match proceedings. 

Midorima was wracking his brains, trying to think of a reason that Akashi would require a penknife on his trip here. Was someone after him? Did he need to protect himself? No, that didn't make any sense - if that was truly the case, Akashi was more than capable of protecting himself even in hand-to-hand combat. His family’s bodyguards would’ve already shot the poor assailant dead, too.

He didn't understand what was happening, and it was frustrating. He studied Akashi carefully from the corner of his eye. In the 4 weeks after the Winter Cup finals, Akashi already looked smaller. He had always been small, but his bones now protruded from his frame more. He looked gaunt, pale - even sickly. It was extremely unnerving to see his old captain, the one who had commanded his respect - still did command his respect - in such a miserable state.

He cast a glance at his phone and read the new message from Kise.

‘We’re coming. Don’t do anything stupid till we get there, Midorimacchi!! ミ○﹏☉ミ ’

Midorima sighed, hand falling to his side, ignoring Kise’s use of such a strange kaomoji.

Whatever it is, we will help him overcome it.  
That singular thought was unanimous.

~~~

“Akashicchi! Midorimacchi! You’re all here too? What a funny place for a full reunion!” Kise’s signature high-pitched voice rang out in a squeal.

Akashi’s body stiffened immediately. He turned around; noticed the rest of the GOM behind Kise; a look of utter horror shone on his face; his breathing became erratic.

He saw through Kise’s bad acting like it was nothing but glass. He saw through the fake smiles; saw the concern written plainly on each of their faces. Kuroko and Aomine had watched him buy it for god’s sake! They know, he thought distantly. They know how much of a coward I am; how much of a failure I am. They know. 

His legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, the world around him fading to nothing but an empty, empty black void. He was alone.

Failure. Complete failure.

You’re a failure.

You bring shame to the Akashi name.

You’re weak.

I knew it was impossible for you.

You dishonour the family.

You’re an utter disgrace; an utter failure.

The words were playing over and over in his head.

Akashi forgot himself; his hands flew up to cover his ears. His dulled red eyes widened, pupils dilating with primal fear. His frail figure trembled uncontrollably, with him rocking back and forth. His pupils were blown wide now, unseeing with terror and anguish, chanting “weak, weak, weak”. 

His former teammates froze their every movement, completely dumbstruck by the sight of the cowering form of their former, absolute captain. No one moved a muscle, every eye trained on the shivering form of Akashi Seijuro.

Kuroko broke out of their horrified trance first, kneeling next to Akashi. Akashi seemed to be completely incoherent, digging his nails into his pale face with a force that surely caused pain. 

Instinctively, Kuroko grabbed his wrists, “Akashi-kun. It’s Kuroko. I need you to breathe in, and out. Just follow my breathing. Slowly, Akashi-kun.” Unknowingly, Kuroko was forcefully pressing on Akashi’s wrists, trying to keep Akashi from clawing at his face. Slowly, Akashi ceased his trembling, eyelids flicking open to reveal dead, red eyes.

“Kuroko…” his voice was ragged and weak. He couldn't handle this much pressure - he was almost at his limit. Akashi blinked, trying to regain a semblance of life, ignoring the shame; the embarrassment clawing at him. “Thank you Kuroko. I seem to have forgotten myself for a moment. Excuse my shameful behaviour, everyone,” he blankly said, eyes gazing downwards.

All eyes were on Akashi, waiting for some sort of explanation.

He didn't offer one; didn't even look at them - his eyes were staring determinedly at Kuroko’s shoes. Kuroko trusted that Akashi wasn't going to try to claw his face again so he let go of his wrists gently. Akashi wasn’t offering any eye contact either, and so Kuroko slowly placed his hand on Akashi’s shoulder, frowning as he saw Akashi flinch. 

“Akashi-kun, please tell us if there is-”

“Tetsu! What’s on your hands?” Aomine asked sharply, voice hinting at a slight amount of fear. 

Kuroko turned his palms upwards to reveal red bloodstains covering his hand. Confusion. Where was Kuroko bleeding? What was happening? Kuroko felt his heart pounding. He didn't want to think about it, he truly never wanted to have to be forced to such a conclusion - but he had to check.

To Akashi’s complete horror, his hands were snatched up by Kuroko. “No!” his voice screeched in terror, desperately trying to pull away. The action caused a fresh flare of red-hot pain to erupt from his wrists. His struggle was to no avail. 

When had he become weaker than Kuroko? 

Kuroko squeezed Akashi’s hands tightly and turned Akashi’s hands over.

The red undershirt was decorated with darker maroon patches as well as fresh, growing and damp lines of crimson red. 

Silence reigned supreme. Akashi wanted to dissolve, wanted nothing more than to die. His breath was short and panicked like a caged animal.

No, he thought sharply, chiding himself. His head spun. Run, run, run. Using Kuroko’s moment of weakness to snatch his hands back, towards his body, Akashi stood up hurriedly. He made a run to the door when the world started spinning round and round, whizzing around him, completely out of his control, out of his grasp. He stumbled backwards, falling back - but he didn't feel the floor below him. Instead he heard a shout of “Akashi-kun!” before blackness overcame him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys:) I just wanted to thank everyone again for your support by reading and commenting!!! It is really nice to see you all interested in this. Please comment (I try to reply all my messages) and enjoy!
> 
> Kairo_Gypsy_Lupin, GreyM0nkey, adalicia, daikise and pickleknot and guests (this is very weird to say) thank you for your kudos:)


	7. Part 1: Chapter 7

“Take a right, here.” Midorima instructed the driver of the taxi they were in. After Akashi had collapsed, Midorima had frantically pushed forwards to check he was still breathing. Murasakibara had carried him as Aomine ran ahead to hail a taxi. They were in luck - the first cab Aomine managed to hail was a 7-seater. 

They were driving to the hospital that Midorima’s family owned. Midorima Private Hospital was the closest to their venue, and Midorima knew without a doubt that Akashi’s confidentiality would be protected. The cab ride was silent and tense. The only things verbalised aloud were the directions Midorima was giving the driver. 

When they arrived, Akashi was brought into a room and treated by the nervous doctors. They knew Midorima was watching carefully and the patient was the heir of one of the largest businesses in Japan. After they cleaned his wrists, Midorima (who should have been outside with the rest of the GOM but insisted on staying) saw every single one of Akashi’s cuts on his wrist. The fresh ones were disturbingly deep, with the skin gaping and blood flowing out freely. He heard a gasp behind him and saw Kuroko at the corner, looking whiter than a ghost, his face a cruel mix of terror and agony. He had been standing there the whole time and no one had noticed him.

“Kuroko, let’s go out.” he said firmly and led a stricken Kuroko outside. The 3 of them were waiting outside, all shocked and anxious. When they saw Midorima emerge with a shell shocked Kuroko they all jumped at him.

“Akashi’s fine.” MIdorima said as calmly as he could. “One of the cuts may need stitches, but he’s fine.”

Kise sat on the chair and burst into the tears. Aomine sank into the chair next to him. Murasakibara leaned his head against the wall. 

Kuroko was still in a state of shock. 

“His wrists...there were so many” Kuroko muttered. This made Kise erupt into a fresh wave of tears. Murasakibara pressed his head against the wall with a useless force. Aomine seemed to be the most collected after Midorima and was holding Kise’s shoulder tightly, whispering something into his ear. Kise’s tears seemed to shake the shock out of Kuroko.

Kuroko sat down next to Aomine and waved off Midorima who was shooting him looks of concern. “We can’t break.” Kuroko said, his voice determined. “Akashi… We don't know why. We don't know what’s happening. But Akashi needs us. So we need to be there for him.”

Midorima sat next to Kuroko and Murasakibara remained standing but turned to face them, his eyes looked red. 

“Shintaro.” said Midorima Aoiki, greeting his son. Midorima bowed deeply as a formal greeting and so did Kuroko but the other 3 were so preoccupied they didn't greet him. Aoiki didn't seem to mind though, instead asked his son and Kuroko to follow him to his study.

“The doctor attending to him is very good, I taught him myself.” He said, mostly for Kuroko’s benefit. Midorima already knew all of the staff in the hospital. Kuroko nodded politely. 

“Please sit down.” He gestured to the teenagers. “Your friend was admitted because he collapsed. For now the doctors think it is because of exhaustion and malnourishment. They cleaned the cuts on his wrists but they don't think they need stitches.” he paused looking away from the report in his computer to gauge their reactions but their stoic expressions remained. 

“In this case, as Akashi is 16, we are not obliged to inform his parents, but require a adult, above 18 to sign him out of our care. I have some counsellors and psychologists that are very reliable and trained in dealing with self-harm as well as eating disorder.” 

“Eating disorder?” interjected Kuroko, clearly confused. Before Aoiki could say anything, Midorima said “We can’t be sure that Akashi has a eating disorder, but because he...cuts, starving himself is another possible way he self-harms.”

Aoiki nodded, “All you boys can do is be there for him. Listen and be supportive.” 

“Thank you so much sir.” Kuroko bowed deeply, blinking away his tears as he stared at the floor before breathing out, collecting himself enough to stand straight up. 

The 3 of them went to join the others, and the doctors were ready to discharge a sleeping Akashi. Aoiki had signed Akashi out and offered his house for all the boys to sleep in. “I will be going to Tohoku to join my wife for a medical conference that will last the whole winter break. You are all welcome to stay over. I called the driver to pick you all up. Also, Midorima may I speak to you?”

The two green-haired figures walked to a corner and Aoiki said, “Shintaro, I trust your judgement. If you things get out of hand and you need professional help you know who to call. You can always call me or anyone from the hospital if you need anything.”

“Thank you father.” Midorima bowed before walking out of the hospital to get into the car with his friends.

They settled Akashi in the guest room quietly before stepping out to the living room. 

Kuroko recounted what Aoiki told them. Everyone was deep in thought. How did this happen? To Akashi of all people? How were they supposed to react?

“Should we ask him why he did this?” asked Murasakibara.

“That might just make him panic more, like what happened in the afternoon today.” Aomine said.

“I just want to help him.” Kise said simply, his hands on his face but at least he wasn't crying.

“Yes. We all want to help him. So we need to listen to what he has to say, but be patient. Most important thing is to let him know we will support him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a super action packed chapter, but I thought it was important to write this scene. (More action is coming right up) Once again, thanks for your support, comments and all:) Mirage664, Indiapetal1, Amber_Flicker, CADA, MellyHunt and guests (again this is weird, lol) thank for the kudos!!!


	8. Part 1: Chapter 8

Akashi woke up, disoriented. Where was he?

Struggling against sleep, he lifted off the sheets and saw his bandaged wrists. Last night’s events hit him like a pile of bricks.

His friends knew.

A part of him was horrified; embarrassed, but another part of him was relieved. He didn't need to avoid them anymore. The secret was out, and he felt lighter. But he still felt vulnerable, like someone had sliced him open and inspected his insides.

He opened the door and recognised it as Midorima’s house. As soon as he stepped out of the room, all of the familiar coloured heads turned to stare at him. 

Akashi cringed; it truly seemed as though he was under the microscope. 

Kuroko started walking towards him as Akashi managed to cough, “I am most sorry for troubling you all -” He was cut short by Kuroko engulfing him in a tight hug. 

Akashi paused, taken aback by the overt display of affection from the normally reserved Kuroko. His hands automatically reciprocated, wrapping Kuroko in the hug.

Kuroko swore he could feel Akashi’s ribs prominently but moved his hands to rub Akashi’s back. Everyone encircled him and he was slowly led to the sofa, sitting between Kuroko and Midorima. 

“You don't need to apologise for anything Akashi. We are sorry for not helping sooner,” Kuroko comforted, still holding him in a firm embrace.

“I didn't want you to know.” Akashi managed weakly. 

“Akashi-kun..”

“Akashi…”

“Akashicchi..”

“When you’re ready to tell us, we’ll be here to listen. We’ll always be here, for you.” Kuroko asserted firmly, staring at Akashi in the eyes. 

Akashi nodded, albeit uncomfortably. 

The rest of the morning was rather enjoyable, as they played some board games. It turned out that Murasakibara was really good at playing Monopoly. Although Akashi was clearly troubled at the prospect of having to talk to them, he still participated in the games and consumed a bowl of miso soup and rice.

“Akashi, would you like to take a shower? I should redress your wounds soon, so I can do that after you shower.” Midorima asked in a matter of fact tone. 

Akashi flinched at “wounds” but nodded. “I have some spare clothes you can borrow. I went home to get some clothes in the morning.” Kuroko said.

After obtaining the clean set of clothes, he was led to the bathroom by Midorima. “Thank you, Shintaro.” Akashi said before closing the door. 

Now, alone, Akashi glared at himself in the mirror and began undressing. He stepped into the shower and, ignoring the dull throb from his wrists, allowed the water to assault the raw skin. He was supposed to keep them dry - Midorima had said so - but he didn't care.

He was so disgusting. He was so weak. He was so pathetic. His friends were spending so much time, so much kindness on something useless. He didn't deserve their kindness - any of it. 

He was simply a useless good-for-nothing, only siphoning goodness from others. His thoughts drifted to what he’d eaten in the morning. The food was a waste to be put in his system. He was so fat and pathetic.

He stepped out of the shower, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks against his bidding. Akashi pulled open the drawers for a razor instinctively, but he knew that Midorima would definitely have been smart enough to keep away all the sharp objects. 

Resigned, he pulled on a pair of light blue pants and was just about to slide on his shirt when a thought occurred to him - he didn’t need anything sharp.

He glanced down at his wrists sporting the fresh scabs, and began picking at each of them with his nails. Fresh blood emerged in droplets as he worked his way through both wrists. An insane grin plastered on his face. 

This was normal to him; it felt good; felt natural. He reached for his ribs and began peeling and scratching at those scabs too. Blood was flowing freely, leaving his body a calming ache. He was about to pick the scabs on his ankles when he spotted the toilet. He could - get rid of the food he ate in the morning. Disgusting pigs like me don’t deserve food, he reminded, before crouching deliberately next to the toilet bowl.

His hands experimentally poked at the back of his tongue. He gagged and heaved, feeling acid burn up his throat, but no food emerged. Again. The world around him was gone, all that mattered was the pain and punishment. He was doing what he deserved. Restoring the balance in his system. Vomit and tears splashed into the toilet bowl. Akashi didn't stop; he continued stabbing his fingers in over and over again.

As a fresh wave of vomit rose, he cried and coughing, jabbing his fingers in again.

~~~

“Will he be okay?” Aomine asked Midorima, who’d just returned from leading Akashi to the bathroom. 

Midorima sighed morosely, “If you mean will he try to cut himself in the toilet, he won’t be able to because I took everything sharp in this house and put it in my safe. If you mean mentally…I don't know,” he admitted ruefully.

He joined Kuroko and Murasakibara on the couch with Aomine and Kise sitting on the floor. 

“I remember when Kuroko got injured, I never thought I would see Akashi with a concerned expression. More importantly, I never thought that anyone would be concerned for him,” Kise mused mournfully. 

The others joined in, reminiscing the good old days.

“Or that time when he borrowed your scissors to cut Kagami’s face,” Aomine snickered. But his voice had constricted at the word “cut”, making everyone fall silent. 

All of a sudden, the faint sound of heaving echoed in the living room. As if to seek confirmation, the GOM looked at each other and all at once leaped out their seats, sprinting to the bathroom. 

“Akashi-kun. Are you okay?” Kuroko asked, his ear pressed to the crack of the door. 

There was no reply apart from muffled cries and sounds of vomiting. Kuroko slammed the door loudly, “Akashi-kun! Can you hear me? Open the door now!” His voice was loud and desperate, lacking his usual measured, composed mildness.

There was a moment of silence, and right when Aomine was about to slam down the door, it creaked open.

A half-dressed Akashi was huddled on the bathroom floor, eyes bloodshot and brimming with tears. Blood rolled down his ribs and wrists and the GOM stared, horrified, at the slashes littered on his torso.

But the worst came when they noticed his fingers, and that explained the heaving - they were laced with vomit and blood. Their hearts shattered. So it was true - Akashi had a eating disorder. He had forced himself to vomit to rid his body of nutrition.

Kuroko clenched his teeth silently, guiding Akashi to wash his hands, before walking him out of the bathroom. Akashi was sobbing and speaking incoherently, and they could only catch some words of

“Sorry-” “Punish-” “Pathetic-”

Once again on the sofa, Kise offered Akashi a cup of warm water, which he accepted. Everyone settled around Akashi, as if defending him from someone, when ironically, the one causing him all this pain was himself. Kuroko stroked Akashi’s hair soothingly as Midorima cleaned and dressed the wounds on Akashi’s ribs and wrist. 

When Akashi had calmed down, he stared at them with his puffy eyes. 

“I do this because I deserve it.” He said clearly.

“You don't deserve it!” Kise cried out.

Midorima shot him a look to shut up and let Akashi continue.

“I have always been expected to be victorious. My father told me this the moment I could understand what that meant. When I was younger, I had my mother to keep him at bay, but after she passed away, all that awaited was only more perfection. When I lost the game at the Winter Cup, I guess it hurt me more than I thought. And I knew I was pathetic, so this was my way to remind myself. Forever.” Akashi looked down.

No one knew what to say, the brutal honesty of the confession sending shockwaves to their core. They hadn’t realised that Akashi didn't even know how… messed up cutting was. They didn't want to admit it, but their captain was broken and they had no idea what to do. They wished they could show him a mirror, shake him really hard or tape his hands together to stop him from hurting himself. 

But they knew they couldn't.

Kuroko was lost. He wanted to cry. It seemed like it finally dawned on him, the gravity of the situation causing his former captain’s pain. I did this to him. I beat him.

He shook his head. There would be time for thoughts later. Akashi had been the one to tell him to keep his emotions inside - Akashi didn't need any of that - Akashi needed support.

“I don't think you’re pathetic.” He said loudly, startlingly everyone. “You led the Teiko team to victory for 2 consecutive years. You discovered my potential. You are Akashi Seijuro.” 

Akashi was resolutely looking at the ground, so Kuroko glanced at the rest of the GOM helplessly.

“You always beat me in Shogi.” Midorima admitted grudgingly.

“It was the hardest for me to copy your ankle break.” sniffed Kise.

The words,however, had the opposite effect on Akashi. He was nothing like they said. He was weak, sickening, disgusting. Why couldn’t they just admit it?

He was a lost cause. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run away.

Run away.

“It doesn't matter,” Akashi brushed off, standing up. “Thank you all for your help. I will not intrude on your hospitality anymore, Midorima. Please have a good week everybody - I should be making my way back to Kyoto.”

Aomine was the quickest to intercept him, physically planting himself between the door and Akashi. “Are you crazy or something Akashi? We aren’t letting you leave!”

“Aomine, please get out of my way.”

“He won’t, and I won’t too.” Murasakibara had joined Aomine, effectively blocking out the entire door from Akashi’s view. 

“Murasakibara, you…”

“Why don't you see? We want you to be here! We care about you! We want to help you!” Kise exclaimed in desperation and he joined them as well.

“Shut … Shut up… SHUT UP! I’m a lost cause, stop wasting your damned time! I JUST NEED TO GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY AOMINE!”

Midorima stood up, “Murasakibara, Aomine, let him go.”

The giant and ace stood shoulder to shoulder, shouting unanimously, “NO!”

“I said, just LET HIM GO!” Midorima yelled. They froze, then parted, allowing Akashi to squeeze through and leave. 

“What… Why? Midorimacchi, we can’t just give up on him!” Kise was the most confused he’d ever been.

“He’s not giving up on Akashi-kun. He’s letting Akashi-kun run to release his emotions now by running, rather than bottle it up and release it in ways that harm him more. Besides, Midorima-kun’s house is completely fenced - it’s impossible to leave without a key. So he’ll be back, just give him space,” Kuroko explained, gaze blank and lowered to the ground.

~~~

Akashi ran out of the house, to the gate, ignoring the blurring greenery and landscaping around him. His tears were welling up, falling down, and he wiped at them impatiently. As he reached the gates and attempted to push them open, he could only freeze and remember - one needed a key to tap out of his premises.

Still shaking with pent-up emotions, he sprinted to the second gate in hopes that it would simply let him through.

No such luck, and he ran along the perimeter of Midorima’s house. Again, again, again. His heart seemed unable to keep up with the pace of his legs, his legs buckling as he fell over, straight down onto the grass he’d trampled on earlier. The soft, soft grass broke his fall and he lay there, panting and exhausted.

He started laughing to himself. Quietly, at first, then louder, louder, and louder. He didn't want to die. He just wanted to hurt so that he could feel alive.  
They thought that what he did made him closer to death, but pain was something only the living could feel, and he wanted to feel something he could control. No disappointment, no sorrow, no helplessness, just pain.

His hysterical laughter evolved into tears. He stared up at the trees and the foliage and cried. He was relieved. In the weeks he’d started doing it, the question of why was always in his head. Of course the answer was always him calling himself stupid, disgusting, pathetic. But he’d come to terms with something so much deeper, a fault line in his system and he realised how sick he was. 

He was addicted to self-harm and he hadn’t realised till now. He hated it; hated how he couldn't function without a ‘fix’. He was dependent on it. Weak, a voice snarled in his head. That voice, telling him what to do, providing him the the bit of extra motivation to cut deeper, drag longer. For the first time he said. Loud and clear, “Fuck off”, with no one but the trees to bear witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the later update! I wanted to thank you all for all for all your support. Reading through all the comments really makes my day and I try to reply ASAP. Thanks Hutsepot, LePapillonRose and guests for your kudos:) And thank YOU readers for continuing to read this. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!


	9. Part 1: Chapter 9

The tension in the room with the rest of the members of the Generation of Miracles was palpable. No one had moved since Kuroko's words. It had felt like hours, but it'd just been minutes. "Should we go and find him?" Kise timidly asked. Everybody seemed to open their mouths to answer, but the door opened, revealing a sweaty and panting Akashi.

"I truly apologise for shouting, everyone. My behaviour was... unacceptable."

Kuroko leapt forward, crushing Akashi in a hug as he burst into loud gasping sobs.

Kise was a second behind Kuroko, but instead of hugging Akashi, he launched himself on Aomine and bawled.

Midorima looked at Murasakibara disdainfully before returning to his seat. No love was lost between those two.

"Just stay," Kuroko pleaded.

Akashi hesitated.

Every moment to this point had required so much strength. The itch to lie on the grass forever, the urge to never open the door - he had to overcome all of that.

Did he have the strength to do this?

"We will be here for you." Kuroko seemed to read his mind. "Always."

~End of part 1~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me pls. Short chapter, like ultra short chapter I know. Just a few things I wanted to say, firstly thank you all for the amazing support, the bookmarks and kudos (thanks humchitt99, StrawFairy, lafeeverte and guests!!!!). Thanks for the amazing comments, and basically all of the support! Also special thanks to 111000111 for amazing beta-ing:)
> 
> I'm going to be taking a break (probably a week) before posting Part 2 (with the normal schedule of twice a week). I have major exams coming up in late September and I'm gonna start studying for that too. Hope this chapter finds you well and I hope you guys continue to support this work!
> 
> P.S. Look out for a teaser for Part 2 which I'll be posting some time soon:)
> 
> P.P.S. Some people have asked my questions about the story and I was wondering if I should answer them in a mini Q/A segment. If you guys have any questions please feel free to comment, or PM me and I'll try to collate them and answer it at one-shot.
> 
> Once again, THANK YOU ALL FOR SUPPORTING SAVING RED!


	10. Part 2: Chapter 1

Part 1:

“Just stay,” Kuroko pleaded.

Akashi hesitated.

Every moment to this point had required so much strength. The itch to lie on the grass forever, the urge to never open the door - he had to overcome all of that. 

Did he have the strength to do this?

“We will be here for you.” Kuroko seemed to read his mind. “Always.”

 

Part 2

 

“Akashi-kun, dinner is ready.” Kuroko called lightly, peering around at the door of Midorima’s guestroom. Akashi was looking out of the window, back facing the door. He was silently watching rain pour, absentmindedly running his finger over his bandaged wrist as if reminding himself of his actions. 

After his shocking confession, he’d decided that he would stay in Tokyo for the 10-day winter break. He had called his butler and arranged for clothes and supplies for his trip. 

Spending time with his friends made him feel an inexplicable sense of warmth that he craved. It was a foreign sensation - leaning on others for support - but he was coming to realise that that didn’t mean he was weak, it meant he was simply learning to be strong enough to admit he needed help. 

Turning around, he looked at Kuroko’s startling teal eyes, and his heart fluttered ever the most slightly, “I’m coming.”

The Generation of Miracles had decided to stay at Midorima’s house for winter break, and after dinner, they gathered round the table and planned a week worth of events. They decided to go for the winter festival, a calligraphy masterclass, a wood carving session - and when Aomine’s eyes caught the words ‘Winter Street Basketball Tournament’ his mouth opened before he could think and spouted, “Hey! Let’s play basketball in this-”

“No,” Akashi rejected simply. 

Why? Why didn’t he want to play basketball? Because you’re weak, and pathetic, and you can’t- STOP. He shook the thoughts out of his head. He would think about this later. 

“Maybe next time?” He offered, successfully pacifying the looks of concern that was being flashed amongst all the GOM. The atmosphere instantly returned to what it was - a warm, safe and fun environment to be in.

Over the next few days, the GOM never left his side. Murasakibara even tried to do calligraphy and while it looked more like grass than Japanese characters, Akashi appreciated the effort.

On Wednesday night, he collapsed on his bed after spending his day walking around the shops lining the street in Tokyo. It had been filled with life and activity, with children screaming, teenagers shopping, couples going on dates - even the winter chill didn’t dare penetrate this warm environment.   
So when he was sound asleep in one of Midorima’s guestrooms, he didn’t register the small warm body encircling him, warding away the unyielding cold air.


	11. Update!!!

Hey guys

I'm so sorry for not updating in like a month. I had a series of annoying flus and coupled with frenzied exam prep. Then I caught a nose and throat infection, got my lymph nodes swollen from the infection and sat for my exams. I'm still recovering and I just wanted to let you guys know that I would be updating twice a week again, from next week. I'm super sorry for this extended, sort of hiatus, situation. Once again than you for your continual support!


	12. Part 2: Chapter 2

“Perfect! Well done, Akashi,” cried out Akashi’s violin teacher. Akashi’s shoulders relaxed in relief. His father was watching, and anything less than perfect would simply be unacceptable.

His father coolly turned away and walked back to his study. His mother was smiling widely, as her eyes held a flurry of emotions. As she walked closer, her eyes turned from the kind warm brown Akashi knew, to a fiery red. She opened her mouth but the voice was of his father’s, “That’s it? That is the best you can do? I’m disappointed in you, Seijuro.” 

Akashi shot up. His breathing was erratic as his vision slowly cleared. He was in Midorima’s guest room - It’s just a nightmare, it’s not real, he reminded himself. 

Gradually, his heart rate evened out and he felt the pale, warm arms encircling him. Kuroko was holding him tightly, whispering, “It’s okay.”

“Kuroko? What are you doing on my bed?” Akashi asked, back facing the boy. 

“I heard you screaming, so I came into your room.” Kuroko’s voice wavered and it seemed slightly less passive. Akashi dismissed this quickly as his morning voice, before thanking Kuroko and making his way to the bathroom to get ready. 

When he got out of the shower, Kuroko had disappeared from his room so he made his way to the hall and along the corridor he heard Midorima ask, “Kuroko, did you sleep yesterday? I walked past your room in the morning and the bed looked completely neat.”

“I did Midorima-kun, I always make my bed when I wake up.” Kuroko lied smoothly without missing a beat. 

“Sorry for being the latest, I hope I didn’t disturb anyone else in the morning.” Akashi said as he walked in. 

Before the GOM could ask him what he was talking about, Kuroko interjected quickly, shaking Aomine awake and reminding everyone they had to leave in 30 minutes if they wanted to make it for the wood carving class.

When they reached the cultural centre, the snow was beating down on the car, and they trooped into the heated premises of the centre.

Each of them were given a block of wood and a chisel with patterns and designs to emulate. Akashi picked the classic bird figurine began to carve out the shape, crimson eyes focused only on the block of wood in his control. It was quiet, absorbing work, and when he looked up to stretch his stiff neck, he saw Kuroko carving out a shape that looked roughly like his dog Nigou, Aomine carving a basketball, Kise carving a figurine of himself, Midorima carving his lucky item - a goldfish - and Murasakibara carving the name of his favourite snack.

These were his friends - friends who were willing to spend time with him; be with him. You don’t deserve their love, you don’t deserve anything. Akashi picked up his chisel and pressed down hard on the wood. It reminded him of his skin, it was almost the same light, pale colour, and it would bend slightly from the pressure, before breaking, revealing a softer and paler wood inside. 

The only difference was there was no blood, there was no pain.

He wanted to feel that pain, the itch growing like a monster and calling out his name. Akashi dug his chisel deep into the bird’s neck - 

With a snap, the head broke off.

Akashi snapped his gaze down, shocked, as the head of the bird rolled away from its body. He could feel multicolored eyes on him, and he bent down to pick it up, still holding his chisel. Flipping the chisel so the blade was facing him, he moved his wrist to reach for the decapitated head only to feel a slight sting from the blade pressed against his forearm - more, more, more, more, more --

“Akashi-kun -”

“Akashi, could I borrow your chisel please? I would like to try a different grip.” 

He looked up and saw Midorima ask, his face as impassive as ever. There was hidden concern swimming in the depths of his verdant green eyes. Akashi regarded Midorima coolly. There was a slight nick on his forearm, not deep enough for blood to flow.

He looked away, a wave of shame rolling through him. Stupid! Why can’t I control it? Now my friends think I can’t even control myself. He handed Midorima the chisel.

The tension that Akashi hadn’t realised built up had dispersed.

“I’m really, realllly hungry guys, let’s go out and eat,” Kise suggested. Kise wanted to get Akashi out of this setting as soon as possible, as he mentally scolded himself for not realising that wood carving class was a possible trigger. The other GOM seemed to understand what he was doing and agreed at once. 

As Akashi grabbed his coat and walked out of the room, he watched the head of his bird roll of the table and hit the ground with a tremor, before stopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:  
> Thanks so much for your support guys! I'm back to updating twice a week:) Thanks Tiamo4ever, Amelioration, Nyra_the_draconic_demon_Dragion, CharaCloud, spikeystrife and guests for your kudos and everyone for your support!!!


	13. Part 2: Chapter 3

Kuroko was sitting in his temporary room. Earlier that night after Akashi had gone to bed, the GOM huddled in the living room to discuss Akashi. It was the second last day of the winter break and it had gone without much incidence. Except for the wood carving class of course. They were all well aware that urges to relapse, and relapses, were common - but leaving him completely alone by himself in a completely different part of Japan seemed like a huge jump from 10 days of no incidence. 

“We can’t do anything else,” Midorima said, reading their minds, “Even if we somehow manage to convince him to not go to school and stay here or even go to school here, it’s completely different and who knows if the complete change will be good or detrimental? We can only keep in touch; talk to him as much as we can; meet him as much as we can. We have to trust him.” 

It seemed like to most logical solution and while everyone didn’t want to leave Akashi alone, they knew they couldn’t always be there for him. After grudging acceptance to the plan, everyone went to their separate rooms to sleep. 

He was looking out of his room window and at the sky. He needed to make sure everyone was asleep before going to Akashi’s room. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to sleep with Akashi it was like some sort of instinct, he wanted to be there for him; keep him warm; be with him. 

How had he reached this point? What happened to Akashi? These thoughts frequently assuaged him during quieter moments, when Kuroko was left alone. It was troubling to think that the Akashi Seijuro, the youngest captain at both Teiko and Rakuzan, the absolute, had been reduced to this. 

It was my fault. I was being selfish. I just wanted him to know my basketball was better, and I didn’t stop to think of the consequences it would have on others. Akashi-kun doesn’t deserve this; doesn’t deserve the deep, long red lines running down his arms.

 

The scabs were beginning to heal, revealing dark purple and red scars that protruded from his skin. Every time Kuroko saw them he would wince; as if something had pulled his heart out of his chest. It was an odd sensation, numbness mixed with such sadness. 

Before he knew it, tears were running down his face, hot tears pouring down. He cursed the gods, how unfair it was to hurt Akashi. And how he would much rather have that pain, knowing that it hurt him so much more when it was Akashi’s burden. Why would they hurt his Akashi like this? What did he do to deserve this? Make it me, please just give it to me, he thought hysterically. If the pain was given to him, couldn’t they take it away? 

It didn’t matter why Akashi felt in pain, the point was Akashi was in pain and Kuroko had to be there for him, not be a sobbing mess on the floor. Picking himself up, he went to the toilet and turned the faucet on, splashing his face with water before tip-toeing into Akashi’s room. 

His small figure was engulfed by the thick duvet, and yet, he was curled into himself as if he was still cold. Gently easing into the bed with him, Kuroko brushed the soft hair out of Akashi’s face before closing his eyes.

~~~

“I think I’ve got it, Kuroko,” assured Akashi patiently - or as patiently as he could after Kuroko had rambled on and on about things to remember in Kyoto for an hour.

He was supposed to text them every morning and night. Call one of the GOM a day at least (they had a roster and everything). If he felt an urge to do it, he would immediately call them, and if that was not feasible, then text them and try to distract himself until it subsided.

“I’m sorry, just remember to call when you’re home.” Kuroko said, sounding, even to himself, like a mother. The GOM were standing at the bullet train station, Murasakibara had left earlier that day and so Kuroko, Kise, Aomine and Midorima were sending him off.

“Thank you all so much.” Akashi said before bowing deeply and making his way onto the train. As he sat down onto a vacant seat, he felt his heart flutter, waving to them one last time before the train sped off, to the ironic mystery of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support and ik it seems very nice and happy but just give it a while. (That sounded evil and creepy) Have a great week!


	14. Part 2: Chapter 4

“Welcome back Akashi-san, should I ask the chef to prepare dinner?” The butler asked hurriedly, clearly not expecting Akashi to appear at the front porch of the house without warning. Akashi had just paid an extremely anxious taxi driver and finished sending a message to Kuroko, “Arrived safe, planning to get a good night’s rest. Akashi.”

A smile creeped on his face when he pressed “Send”, the fact that he had people who cared about him, or was it Kuroko in particular? A gentle blush dusted his cheeks and he bit his lip guiltily, face red hot with embarrassment. 

“Akashi-san?” The butler asked tentatively, clearly bewildered at the young masters peculiar facial expression. Instantaneously, Akashi stiffened and replied, “Yes, dinner would be good. Thank you.” before walking past the butler who was currently lugging his luggage to his room.

I should greet Father. He walked up the marble staircase to the second floor with his father’s study. Breathing out, as if to remove the scenes of his nightmares, he knocked the door. 

No reply.

Confused, Akashi knocked again. If Father was out, the butler would have informed him, and since he didn’t, it meant he was home, and he was only ever in the study unless he was eating. 

He turned the doorknob an pushed the door open. The red-carpeted room with grand floor to ceiling shelves were covered with books. The ebony study table was neat and clean as always, but his father was nowhere in sight. He was about to leave when he noticed a familiar trophy on one of the shelves, closest to the table. Walking over, his hands enveloped the small gold object, ‘Most Promising Medical Student’. 

It was his mother’s. She was a medical student before marrying Akashi’s father, when she was forced to graduate early and take care of the Akashi house. Floods of memories of his mother crashed through Akashi’s mind, like a strong current, knocking him off his feet.

Suddenly weak, he sat on his father’s study chair, clutching the armrest- trying to well- get a grip on things. He’d never truly let himself mourn for his mother - the illness had struck her quickly; her death, swift. She had been losing weight for a few months, but was suddenly admitted to the hospital after falling unconscious. She had MOF (multiple organ failure) and was pronounced dead 2 days later. The doctors were baffled by the suddenness of the condition, but the case was eventually linked to her inherited medical conditions.

Memories of his mother were always covered in a icy haze. He realised he’d forgotten how she looked when she smiled, how she sounded when she laughed, how she warmed his heart. How can I forget? Nauseous, he bent over suddenly, head under the table, tears falling on the red-patterned carpet.

There was something off about that piece of carpet, it seemed to be a small piece of carpet, rather than the continuous carpet like the rest of the room. Experimentally, he pulled the carpet, revealing a case tucked between two pieces of parquet. He pulled out the case, and placed it on his lap. It was a leather bound case covered in dust, and he unclasped the golden fastens revealing sheets of paper, some fastened, some loose. 

Extracting the first sheet, it read ‘Kyoto Regional Hospital’ in big bold lettering at the top and ‘Bloodwork of Amaterasu Akashi’. It was dated, 2 days before his mother’s death. The day she had been admitted to the hospital after losing consciousness at home. Akashi remembered the sounds of an ambulance, his mother being pulled in a stretcher, paler than a ghost. His father was in his pyjamas, shouting at the butler to bring Akashi to the hospital while he got into the ambulance. 

Shaking the memories away he looked at the report again. “Heroin - high concentration” What in the world? His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. What was going on? Why did his mother have toxic levels of heroin in her system? His eyes flitted over the paper, searching for answers. “Fentanyl, Carfentanil, U-47700” Why had there been opiates in her blood? It was a lethal concoction, and in a fatal dose. 

His head began pounding wildly, swirls of confusion enveloped him. 

He felt the world rip away from under his feet, his hands crushed the paper and he wildly held the table edge for support although he was sitting down. 

This combination of drugs - coined the ‘Grey Death’.

A lethal concoction of drugs that claimed countless lives across the globe.

His mother didn’t die of a rare hereditary condition, his mother - the doctor- the one who was aware of what this could do to her - she had been killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update again guys:(( Another one should be coming soon!!! Lucky_C, Letys_Z, and guests thanks for the kudos and thank you everyone for your support!!!


	15. Part 2: Chapter 5

Akashi didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to believe. His breathing was erratic, the world was spinning out of control. He flipped through the rest of the papers in the case. He looked mad, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot, mouth trembling. Ripping through the papers, his hands stopped when he saw a letter. “Seijuro Akashi” was written in his mother’s brilliant handwriting. He turned the envelope around, hands shaking furiously. The wax seal of the Akashi family had already been broken and Akashi pulled the paper out -

‘My Dearest Seijuro,

If you are reading this, it means I am no longer in your world. I am sorry Seijuro, what I did was selfish, and so cruel to you. You are my perfect boy and all I need in the world. For the longest time I tried to convince myself that as long as you were okay, I was okay. But this was a lie, because truthfully Seijuro - I am in pain. I am in so much pain, I am so miserable. I thought I would be strong enough to live for you, but the truth is, I have been dead for so long. 

I am not strong enough for this world Seijuro, it is a big, harsh, painful world. But you are so strong, so incredibly brave. I want you to be brave enough to be happy. Know that I will always be watching over you, and I will always love you.

Love,  
Mother’

Akashi read the letter once, twice, thrice. His mother couldn’t have, she wouldn’t have. Fingers traced the parts were the ink seemed to have smudged. Tears, my mother’s tears. Maybe her final tears. 

He broke. 

He sent the papers on the desk flying, pulled books out of shelves, flinging them across the room with pointless force. He didn’t even remember standing up. It was all a frenzy - a mad frenzy. Emotions consumed him as he gasped for air. His mother’s letter, her suicide note, had been tossed the far corner of the room. He walked over, rage filling his system. 

His father didn’t show him this letter.   
No, nevermind that - his mother abandoned him. There was a wave of hatred, washing over, consuming him. How could she leave him? How could she let him live in this cruel world alone? He wasn’t brave. He wasn't. Look at me. I’m nothing. 

A wave of guilt overcame him. How could he be angry at her, she was in so much pain; what had he done for her? How had he not make her feel there was a reason worth living? Pathetic. He was pathetic.

He began rocking back and forth; he couldn’t think; he couldn’t see; he could only feel, and he felt so much. Pain. He needed it.

He needed it now.

Standing up shakingly, he stumbled to his father’s table where he dumped the contents of his stationery on the table. His hands swimmed frantically for something, anything. No penknife, no scissors. There were pens, sharp-tipped pens. It was going to be messy - but it would have to do. 

He uncapped a black pen and pulled his sleeve down. He could feel himself choking on his thoughts, but at that moment, everything was quiet apart from a deafening scream reverberating in his skull,

“DO IT.” 

Holding the pen like a dagger he pressed it deep into the side of the wrist, dragging it. The pain was so blinding, so sharp that he bit back a scream and jerked the pen out, revealing a deep nick, with white flesh visible underneath. The black ink and white flesh was a transfixing combination, and in a few seconds the nick filled with dark red blood. He felt sweat pouring down his face. Pathetic, I can’t even cut properly. Again. 

And so he did it, again and again, digging into his left forearm, over and over again. Soon, there was blood splattered all over the the desk. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN. AGAIN.

He was mad, and he didn’t care. The pain was his solace, and after what seemed like a mere few seconds he stopped. His left forearm was coated in a layer of deep red. Nicks covered the scars he had and he dropped the pen on the table with a clatter. 

The adrenaline worked its way out of him and he was aware of how fast his heart was beating. There was no feeling in him, he was a shell. 

He was calm, as calm a he had been in forever. He pulled his sleeve back, and the red instantly blotted the fabric, spreading from dots, to lines, to a uniformed maroon. Akashi scanned the room, books were lying on the floor, papers of his mother was flying everywhere. He began picking up everything and putting it back in its original place. 

He put the carpet over the hidden case and surveyed the room. It looked innocent enough, minus a blood splatter on his Father’s table. As Akashi wiped it with his clean sleeve a knock echoed from the door and the butler came in. 

“Akashi-san, I apologise for forgetting to tell you that Akashi-sama was out, he is at a business conference.” 

“Thank you. Please bring dinner in my room today.” Akashi said coolly, almost an exact replica of his father’s demeanour. As the butler bowed his way out of the room, Akashi put his hands back on the table. 

This is my secret.


	16. Part 2: Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC SELF-HARM AHEAD.

Monday, Akashi texted the GOM ‘Getting ready for school. Wishing everyone a good school term.’ He threw his phone back on his bed and began using his Father’s pen- digging all over his forearm at places he ‘neglected’ yesterday. His heart wasn’t palpitating wildly- hell Akashi wasn’t sure if there was a heart in there. He heard his phone buzzing a saw ‘Ryouta Kise’ flash across the screen. He slid across the phone to receive and pressed the loudspeaker button, sitting on his bed as he continued to dig in his arm. 

“Good morning Akashi-kun.” Kise’s voice filled his room.

Akashi pushed the pen in his arm again, and without a thought replied, “Good morning Kise.” 

After convincing Kise that he was indeed fine, he cleaned up his mess- careful to not let the blood drip on the floor he applied pressure on his arm with tissue paper. He didn’t care about infections. Bandaging his hand, he slipped on a long-sleeved shirt and jacket before making his way to school.

~~~~~~

 

Dawn had barely broken on Thursday and Akashi was up, sitting on his bed in the morning. He dreaded today because it was Kuroko’s turn to call him. He had already lied to Kise, Midorima and Aomine but this was different, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to Kuroko. His hand traced up and down his forearm, filled with lines, scabs and blood. Unlike his previous cuts, the ones he had inflicted on himself this week were deep, very deep. The ones on Monday had finally begun to scab but Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s were bleeding steadily. Akashi was careful, he avoided the major veins but cut them deep enough to reveal the pink and white flesh beneath his skin.

Look at you. Thank goodness his mother wasn’t here to see how much of a failure he was. How much of a piece of filthy scum he was. He could only imagine the disappointment in her eyes. Hot tears ran down his face as he sank onto the floor. 

How can I do this to Kuroko? 

How can I do this to my mother?

His 13th alarm began to beep impatiently and Akashi reached out to switch it off. His phone was buzzing next to the alarm clock, with ‘Kuroko Tetsuya’ flashing on the screen. He couldn’t bring himself to slide across the screen to answer. He watched as the call ended and looked at his phone, ‘Kuroko Tetsuya- 6 mixed calls’. ‘Akashi-kun, how are you?’, ‘Akashi-kun, when you read this please answer my phone,’ ‘Akashi-kun, are you alright?’. The messages flashed across the screen, shining light across Akashi’s face every time a new message appeared. 

Stupid, stop wasting others time. Answer already. 

The next time the phone rang, Akashi answered, “Sorry for the delay Tetsuya, I just woke up.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem Akashi-kun…”

The conversation ended as quickly as Akashi dared. He threw his phone back on his side table and lay back on his bed, good, at least you aren’t making your friends waste time worrying about you.

Over the next week, things went from bad to worse, with Akashi cutting- almost stabbing his arms all over. He had chosen a black jumper to wear over because black did a much better job at hiding blood than red. Some of his wounds had yellow and purplish tints around them, they were swollen and secreting pus.

He knew they were infected, good then maybe I can die slowly, but dying was the easy way out, and he wanted to make himself suffer, suffer for what a weak person he is. Still, if the infection got too bad, it wouldn't be to his benefit.

~description of self harm~

One hand on a full bottle of whisky and another on a clean knife he had requested from the butler (who looked mildly terrified but not shocked) he walked into his bathroom and locked the door. 

Sitting on the edge of the bath, he removed his jacket and folded it neatly, placing it beside the sink. He opened the bottle, and dripped the amber-coloured liquid on the knife. Satisfied, he placed his feet in the tub, still sitting on the edge as he brandished his left arm. 

Using his knife, he gently cut off the scabs and nicked the surrounding skin. Fresh red blood emerged and a dull throb caused his skin to vibrate ever so slightly. He clenched his jaw and doused his arm with whisky.

The pain was so sharp, like an electricity, and mesmerised, Akashi poured again, the blinding pain was as sharp as ever and Akashi grinned, taking a swig of whisky before dumping the contents on his arm and placing the bottle beside the sink. 

The bath tub was a brilliant gold with swirls of red forming new patterns. The blood was dripping off the side of his hands and on the bathtub, making the colour appear darker and darker every time. He switched on the water, washing the whisky and blood down the drain, with the only evidence of the act being his alcohol singed nostrils and a steadily bleeding arm. 

Akashi swung his legs out of the tub and placed his hands on the sink. “Smash!” The whisky bottle smashed into the sink, causing shards large and small to fall into the sink. 

Idiot, he thought grimly. The edges were sharp and raw, reflecting light in iridescent colours. Just red, I just want it to be red. 

~~~ (more explicit )

His hand was shaking as he reached in the sink. Coiling back, his eyes glanced over all the shards before deliberately picking a shard with 2 sharp prongs. He weighed the shard in his hand, gripping it firmly, he rested his arms on the sink and let the glass dance on the surface of his mutilated hand, catching blood as it travelled up and down his arm.

Experimentally, he dug the shard in his hand, his left hand jerked back onto the edge of the sink before rebounding back into the shard, impaling deeper into the sharp blade. Akashi sank to his knees. The shard was thicker than anything he had used before, and he could see shiny pieces embedded into his arm, making his arm glisten in a ruby red. 

He clambered back to his feet, smashing that shard into the sink before taking a clean new shard, Again, Again, again. 

He could taste the blood in his mouth - he hadn't realised he was biting his tongue. Looking at the mirror he saw his reflection. He was so small and frail, his bathroom seemed to swallow him whole. The blood leaking from his arm matched his hair, and his other hand was shaking wildly, squeezing a sharp glass shard, effectively sticking glass pieces into his right hand.   
His smile was eery, filled with mania. This is Seijuro Akashi. 

Broken, fucked up, bleeding. 

~~~~

Dropping the dripping red shard back into the sink, it smashed ricocheting into smaller pieces. Akashi pulled his jumper back on ignoring the threads of his jumper getting caught by the glass in his arm and switched the sink on, washing the blood off the glass pieces. 

“Akashi-san, have a good day in school.” His butler bowed. 

“Thank you, would you please clear the mess in my bathroom sink?” Akashi said without missing a beat, walking towards his driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys sorry for the crazy delay. I found it quite hard to write this chapter about Akashi because I wanted to write a truly graphic description of self harm but my heart hurts for Akashi. Once again, thank you yaoi_is_life, roshin_yuu, malarcon and guests for your kudos!


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